I stood there, dripping and naked for what seemed like centuries. I had heard a voice. It wasn't all in my mind, that I was sure of. But whose voice had it been? The question that rolled around in my head again and again, plaguing me, and another thought: why did it always speak to me in a tongue of riddles?
Finally, once a chill had set in, I knew I had to move. Whoever the voice may have belonged to, I would learn nothing standing here freezing. I was an easy target like this, 'vulnerable' the voice whispered in my head.
I continued to puzzle over what the voice had told me but decided to think and move simultaneously, climbing swiftly out of the bath and onto the cold tile, fetching a towel and wrapping it firmly and almost aggressively against my frame. I retraced the words it had spoken to me, it had used the word flee and despite the fact I did not know who the voice belonged to, or the intentions behind the voice, something urged me to trust it. Better to take the help that was offered I decided. But really there was an impulse, a gut feeling in my stomach that leaving was not only the best option, but perhaps the only option. It wasn't the first time I'd had this feeling before.
I stood there grasping onto my towel which grew more sodden and damp by the minute, I was still stood frozen to the spot, staring at the unremarkable yet suddenly daunting door. I fixated at steel door handle. How long had I wasted? How long did I have? What was after me? Gritting my teeth and mustering up some nerve, I grabbed and twisted the door handle hard, flinging myself through the doorway and back out into the pitch black hallway. Only minutes before the hallway had appeared ordinary and familiar, completely unremarkable and more importantly safe. Now it was a host to shadows and hidden dangers, every shadow made me tighten my grip on my robe and quicken my quiet yet frenzied pace back to my bedroom. Without stopping to think to look behind me, I moved into my room at a run, pushing my bedroom door shut, though being sure to keep quiet so as to not wake my roommates. A minute ago I had a home and friends and now, what did I have? Still grasping the door handle, my hands profusely shaking and slippery, I now was unsure who to trust, but I knew it could not extend to one of the friends that lay sleeping on either side of my bedroom walls. I released the door and got to work.
Darting around the room I too found it empty, but the shadows that filled the corners continued to play with me and so I headed to the window, throwing open the curtains to let in the light from the moon beaming down on the dirty Thames river in the distance, it gave me a much needed natural light. I paced to my dresser and pulled out my clothes, quickly changing into an old pair of tatty jeans, a sweater, trench coat (hey it is London) and biker boots. Wherever I was going, I wanted to be prepared. I'd figure it all out later I decided. I snatched my much used gym bag from under the unmade bed and packed my life away in less than a minute. Half of my things were already there. I hadn't admitted it to myself but for days I'd be adding essentials, little things that were dear to me or that I might need if I was to go away on a much needed holiday. Yet I knew I was only fooling myself, there was no holiday booked, only a premonition that my time here was drawing to an end. Clearly part of me knew something was amiss, part of me knew I would have to move on again. But we'll get to that bit later.
Zipping the bag up I immediately tensed. A cold feeling passed over me, it traced itself down my neck all the way to the base of my spine. It caressed me like a lover. And then it bit down. Hard. I reeled around, trying to stop myself crying out whilst trying to detach myself from the teeth that undoubtedly had tasted my skin and swallowed my blood. I turned and found something which made the rest of me go cold, my hand still clinging to my neck and blood continuing to pour out of the fresh wound. The creature was nothing like I'd ever seen before, nothing even I guessed David Attenborough had ever observed in all his years. And that told me one sure thing: it was not of this world. It was not natural.
From the hindquarters up it looked like an ordinary albeit standing Bull, brown and hairy and horned with a pair of steely black eyes and nostrils that flared with what appeared to be exhaustion. Its mouth was open and was tinted red, its teeth which were bared were also stained with my blood. But then there were its legs, and everything seemingly normal about it fell away. Where its hoofs should have been, instead its left hindquarter was one of grey fur leg and a hoof whose dimensions were far smaller than the rest of the bull. It looked mismatched and out of place, it actually looked to be the leg of a donkey. And then there was the other leg. It was a completely contrast to the rest of the creature and if circumstances were different, I would have laughed at the sight of something so mismatched. The right leg looked to be entirely man-made and manufactured from what looked like copper. It was huge and far bigger than the rest of the other limbs. A lot was whirling through my mind, but mainly I was trying to figure how I could get passed the animal without getting killed and all whilst grabbing my bag which now lay out of reach by the creature's feet.
But all of my escape plans were driven out of me when it opened it inhumane mouth and spoke. I don't know what I found to me most shocking, the fact it could speak English or the fact that the voice that left the murderous Bull creature was low and gentle, caressing and all too…persuasive. Oh and female.